By Chance or Destiny
by winglesswinter
Summary: AU FIC. Another tragic death occurs on the evening of October 31st 1981 which might risk ruining everything Albus Dumbledore and the Order have ever worked for. It leaves another boy orphaned and his actions might very well risk changing the outcome or war itself. Will the one person he hates more than anything be able to change this?


A/N :

A/U fic

Completely disregards some of the newly published information concerning the Harry Potter series J.K has written on Pottermore, for example Time Travelling, the Malfoy's history etc. This isn't the first fanfiction I've written, but I'm slightly rusty and I am writing under a new penname these days. Obviously I wouldn't be writing fanfictions here if I owned the Harry Potter series, however this plot is mine as well are any new characters this plot might bring.

I'm positive no matter how many times I spellcheck, a few mistakes will always slip in and I apologize for that!

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_31st October 1981_

_Malfoy Manor_

In the reflection of the window Narcissa Malfoy could look into her own terrified eyes. They looked glassy and distant in the window. If she looked behind her own reflection in the window, she could see the outlines of hedges and several trimmed bushes in the gardens, now submerged into early dusk.

The sunset was a rare sight by the facade side of Malfoy Manor and for a fleeting moment, she found herself wondering what color of the sunset was the most vibrant.

Was it the warm orange or the reddish-yellow color? The longer she thought on it, the more despairing she became.

_I've forgotten the color of the sunset_

With knuckles turning white, she gripped the windowsill harshly and released a heavy sigh. No matter how hard she thought, she couldn't settle for an answer. And the longer she stared at her own reflection, the uglier she became.

The pure white-blonde hair seemed yellowish, the skin with such pallor looked waxy and her face with high cheekbones and piercing blue eyes, looked ashen and aged well beyond her 26 years. The smooth features looked grotesque in the uneven surface of the glass and her otherwise elegant and pretty face had a pinched unattractive look, as if she had a foul smell under her nose. She tried to relax her face but the unsightly way her nose crinkled wouldn't go away. Behind her in the sitting room, a fire was crackling silently, the only source of light and it threw ghostly shadows over her face. There was something else to, like an indescribable shadow that loomed over her constantly but everytime she tried to glance at it in the corner of her eye, it disappeared. Only to come back when she looked in the window's reflection again.

Watched. She felt watched.

Once she had enjoyed her private sitting room. It was completely hers, her own little escape in a manor where the Malfoy presence was otherwise everywhere. She had decorated it modestly, it was a stark contrast to the imposing but lavish decorations throughout the Manor, some artefacts dating back centuries ago. In many ways, it reflected who she was and who she had hoped to become. It breathed elegance and confidence, what Narcissa had always envied from her sisters, yet it had felt safe, surprisingly warm and bright.

Now though, the walls felt much too close, the windows so thick no sound could penetrate them and it was cold, so cold the hairs on her neck were raised. It had been a long time since she had felt remotely safe anywhere and now not even her own quarters could quench the anxious lump of fear that was stuck inside her throat.

A copy of the Daily Prophet was sprawled on a small sidetable next to the window and her eyes fell to the bold headline. She had re-read it so many times she knew it by heart.

**MINISTRY KILLINGS– THE WAR ESCALATES**

**MINISTER OF MAGIC URGES FOR CALM**

Although she would rather die than to admit it, safely tucked away in a cupboard somewhere where no one would ever bother to look, Narcissa had hid a shabby and filthy copy of a muggle newspaper, now months old. She had been out in Diagon Alley during one of her rare visits now these days and suddenly, there it had been. The headline striking, no flashing or moving pictures, just still and dead on the ground and before she knew it, she had slipped it inside her coat and with a laboured breathing, read through the countless articles concering the rising number of mysterious killings.

After scrubbing her hands almost raw, clean from all muggle filth, she had hid the newspaper away and never looked at it again. Well, she couldn't have done so even if she had wanted to. Just two weeks later she had given birth to her first and only child. The birth had been so difficult the healers had warned her to ever have children again and after that her husband had barely slept one night in their bedroom. It made her sick to think of, but she always imagined he smelled of another perfume when he came home from 'work'.

Thinking of baby Draco and Lucius always gave her a gloomy feeling of loss. There was no turning back now, this was her life and she was dutybound to live it. Just like her older sisters were bound to live their lives. She rarely spoke to Bellatrix and hadn't seen let alone communicated with Andromeda in years now. A war was raging on all of them but Narcissa felt very insignificant. She saw glimpses of Bellatrix's fluttering black robes and she saw the dark shadows under her husband's eyes. She saw no victory gleaming in his eyes but all she felt reading the Daily Prophet was despair. The simple reason was that no side was winning, simply tearing each other apart.

Once again, her hands reached for the newspaper and she started flipping the pages. As she read through the newspaper, the feeling of being watched returned. With her back to the window, she could only feel the strange tension in the room, as if her very breathing was too loud and as if the sound of pages being turned was slicing through thin air.

There was a whole spread dedicated to the McKinnon family, wiped out by Death Eaters. Narcissa's slim fingers with sharp trimmed nails skimmed over the smooth page and she felt a lump in her throat.

She knew who were responsible. She knew the eyes that would have been the McKinnon's last sight upon this earth and she knew that her husband could have just as well done it. But Lucius would not be caught. He was good at playing both sides, sometimes too good Narcissa feared. She knew there were some who doubted the Malfoy's dedication to the Dark Lord and his cause. That's why Lucius was excluded from the evening's mission. Neither knew what was going to happen but it was something big, something that would change everything. And that made Lucius angry and Narcissa nervous.

If the Dark Lord viewed Lucius as redudant, too much talk and too little bite, were they in danger? Such thoughts like these often plagued Narcissa at night or when she was holding Draco, trying to lull him to sleep. Would they be on the run soon? Would her son be forced to live in constant danger?

Turning the page over, there was a whole column written by Ministry officials with guidelines and directions and next to it, a short interview with the Minister of Magic. His words were short and to the point and not at all very calming.

"You fool" Narcissa softly muttered as she read his words. Sometimes it took all of her might not to scream and roar with frustration, not to rip her hair and tear the furniture. She hated being stuck in her weak and uncapable body. Without magic she would be completely useless and stuck in the manor like this, she was nothing but a watcher. She wanted to do something, something other than just exist. She knew she could have done it, become a powerful witch all on her own and though she did not regret her choices for they had brought Draco to her, she felt sick thinking of her lost chances. She even envied Bellatrix sometimes. For all her deranged darkness, she had power.

And Narcissa did not.

Her hand reached for her wand inside a hidden pocket of her robes, out of habit, but to her surprise she found no wand. Her body stiffened and she slowly looked around herself in the sitting room.

If there was one thing Narcissa would never misplace it was her wand.

But there would always be one person sly enough to outwit her.

"I should have known it was you… That was a poor Disillusionment charm, are you getting too old?" she spoke as she rose from her seat.

Her loud voice sounded foreign even to her, too clear and too cold and she did not want Draco to wake up. For a one year old he slept very soundly but had a strange talent for hearing the most quiet of noises even from afar.

There was no answer but now she knew.

"Stealing wands now are we? Give it back to me, now" Her command was met with nothing but eerie silence. There was a strange flicker to the flames of the fireplace, the egdes too dark and too blurry and Narcissa's lips curled. Fire was the hardest element of them all to disillusion. Some of the most experienced wizards and witches could not accomplish it.

Narcissa's fingers itched for her wand. Wandless magic was something she had never fully learned to master. She regretted it deeply now. There was a thick tension in the room and the fire was back to normal again with no strange shadows anymore. Now Narcissa felt blind to the danger.

_Where? Where?_

"Where are you? What do you want? I told you to never return" She wished her voice would not sound so frantic and scared but it did.

Again, only silence met her but she was half-convinced she already had the answer anyway. Slowly she started backing away from the sofa, inching closer and closer to the door. She had to get to Draco.

"I never would have taken you for a coward… Stealing someone's…" But Narcissa did not have the time to finish her words because as she was backing closer to the door, suddenly a long slim wooden object appeared opposite of her in the air. Before she knew it, her wand had soared across the room, slicing through the air, and with a strangled gasp escaping from her lips, it pierced through one of her eyes.

She screamed, screamed so loudly it felt as if her voice would crack, as the wand flew back into the air with her eyeball attached to it. With blood trickling down her now empty eye socket, she truly was almost blind and she felt herself stumbling on unsteady feet, struck by nauseating dizziness.

_"Are you mad? What have you done!"_ Her pain-struck cry sounded like a croak coming from her throat. She had never before experienced such pain, not even giving birth had hurt so bad.

Suddenly a piercing cry, but not from her, was heard, and with terror seizing her heart, she realized Draco had awoken.

"If you so much as lay a single finger on his head, I will rip you apart with my bare hands and feed your body to the dogs!" She roared to the empty air. She opened her mouth to say something more but instead a whimper came out and with terror, lifting up her right hand, she could see with her single eye, trickles of blood coming from her middle finger as it was being magically and invisibly chopped off.

_Sick. This is sick. This is so twisted. Why? Why?_

All her voice had disappeared. She was mute, her mouth wide open in a silent scream as her middle finger fell like a lifeless lump to the floor. Her eye blurred with tears, not tears of pain but tears of fear and she felt the salty tears mingling with blood that had spread across her face. She could taste salty-blood on her lips.

"What is this? What kind of sick twisted game is this?" Her voice was barely above a whisper as she sunk down on her knees, her insides churning at the sight of her middlefinger.

_"This is revenge"_

Again Narcissa's mouth opened in a silent scream as her tormentor became flesh and bone again seemingly out of thin air.

With the sound of her own sobs and the distant cry of Draco, she saw one last flash of bright green.

She was dead before her body even hit the floor.


End file.
